


Healthy Habit

by littlechinesedoll



Series: CDB_Plus [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Deliveryboy!Kon, Panties, Riding, delivery boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 22:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18107702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechinesedoll/pseuds/littlechinesedoll
Summary: He rings the doorbell a few more times.The door opens, and Conner expects a maid because she’s always in on Wednesdays, but gets caught off guard when he sees Bruce Wayne himself. He looks like he’s just gotten out of bed, but also just finished freshening up. He’s wearing only a loose, white tank top, and—Conner swallows the lump in his throat.Are those…panties…?





	Healthy Habit

**Author's Note:**

> the user who delegated this work would like to remain anonymous. thanks anon xoxo

Conner likes his job. Nice people, decent pay and benefits, reasonable hours (he starts at six and gets off at two), and most of all, he’s the assigned delivery boy to the most high-profile customer they have: Bruce Wayne.

He has to get the two days’ worth of healthy food to him on Mondays and Wednesdays, and three days’ worth on Fridays, which are the only days he’s on duty, before seven in the morning. Bruce Wayne lives at East Wacker Place (1), a real swanky area and Conner feels like the buildings are going to swallow him alive as he parks the car in a near by parking lot.

Before he steps out of the car, he fixes up his uniform: a black tennis shirt with green hems, and the outline of a green apple on the left side of his chest, and puts on their black cap with an apple green beak, and steps out of the car to take the delivery out of the boot. He slings the delivery bag over his shoulder, shuts the boot closed, and locks the car before crossing the street over to the building.

The security and concierge greet him as he signs his name in the logbook and takes the visitor ID, offering smiles that he returns, before jogging over to the elevator about to close.

He hasn’t actually gotten to see Bruce Wayne before. It’s always some housekeeper, a maid, a busboy, the butler once even (aren’t those the head of the household—wtf??), and they always, always hand him a fifty bill before sending him on his way. He shoves that fifty into a jar and uses that to pay his rent, phone bill, for the books he needs, and sends his dad the occasional trinket to let him know he misses him.

On automatic, he makes his way to Mr. Wayne’s unit on the penthouse, and rings the doorbell.

Nobody answers.

He rings it a few more times.

The door opens, and Conner expects a maid because she’s always in on Wednesdays, but gets caught off guard when he sees Bruce Wayne himself. He looks like he’s just gotten out of bed, but also just finished freshening up. He’s wearing only a loose, white tank top, and—

Conner swallows the lump in his throat.

Are those…panties…?

God, he can’t possibly be getting hard right now. He’s gonna be so _fired_.

Oh god, those _are_ panties—Jesus, wtf—navy blue, and satin, with lace trimmings.

“G-good morning, Mr. Wayne,” he stumbles with his words. “I’m Conner. Your delivery boy for Healthy Habit. I’ve got your food the next two days,”

Bruce stares at him. Then smiles. “Come in, come in!” he opens the door wider and pulls Conner into the unit. “Hello, Conner. I’m Bruce. But I guess you already knew that. It’s the first time I’m seeing you,” says Bruce, leading him into the kitchen. “You can set that down there,”

Conner hears the door automatically lock as he sets the bag down on the counter. “Uh, yeah,” he nods, trying his best not to look down and take a peek at Bruce’s butt—fucking hell that’s a nice rack. It’s plump, fills out those lace panties nicely, and oh, _God_ , they jiggle when he walks—Conner clears his throat. “When I drop off the food, usually it’s one of your housekeepers who receive it,”

“Do they give you the tips I leave?” Bruce moves from the counter to the sofa in the living room a few steps away, pulling Conner with him.  

Bruce can’t help himself. This boy looks so inviting. Young and virile, and Bruce finds himself wanting this boy more than he should. He is, after all, a college student, maybe? And college students, he assumes, because just like he was, are easy to rile up. He was about to have a morning to himself, all ready and lubed up for some fun, and is he glad he answered the door instead of ignoring it.

The boy’s adorable trying to hide his hard on as he nods yes, pulling on his shirt to shove it lower than it falls to cover the dent in his pants. Bruce guides him onto the sofa and makes himself comfortable beside him.

“Now, I know how to take care of this,” Bruce leans into Conner as he gestures vaguely over the boy’s groin, where no amount of pulling on the clothes can hide the erection straining underneath. “But only if you want me to,”

Conner swallows. “Uh,” Bruce is so close, so, so close, but not touching him. He’s every bit as gorgeous and airbrushed in real life as he is in magazines. And he can’t meet him in the eye. What kind of tank top is he wearing because holy crap that’s way too loose and his cleavage is out and—god, he’s so hard. This is the kind of thing he only sees in porn.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Bruce coos at him. “Because if you don’t want me to and you feel uncomfortable,” Bruce pulls back and leans on the sofa’s armrest, a foot away from Conner. “I’ll hand you your tip, and send you on your way,”

“I—yes,” Conner manages to say.

“Yes, what?” says Bruce, “Yes, you want me to do something about it, or yes, you want to go?”

“Yes, do something about it,” Conner finds himself answering almost too fast.

Bruce leans back into Conner and lifts the shirt up to undo his pants and fly. He runs a finger over the boxers before pulling it down to free aching cock. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” he gets down to his knees in between Conner’s legs.

Conner feels his breath get stuck in his chest. Holy—Bruce is licking him—how are those lips so pink. He gasps as Bruce takes him into his mouth. He grabs at the throw pillows around him to keep himself from grabbing Bruce’s hair. 

“Oh, oh, _God_ —” Conner gasps when he sees Bruce take the head of his dick into his mouth—holy fuck, his mouth is so warm. He lifts his head and lays it back on the backrest to look up at the ceiling and fists at the pillows tighter. He doesn’t wanna look because he knows in his gut that just one peek at Bruce will make him come.

He feels Bruce bob his head up a few times, and then he feels the entirety of his dick warm up. He closes his eyes. Fuck, Bruce has him fully into his mouth—OH. OH, NO. THAT’S THE BACK OF HIS THROAT.

He feels himself touch the back of Bruce’s throat a few times before he pulls off with a filthy pop of his lips on his cockhead, Conner releases a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding and releases the jaw he doesn’t know he’s been clenching, and pants like he ran a marathon.

Bruce isn’t afraid to admit to himself that he’s harder for this boy than he’s ever been for any of his previous affairs and that he’s having a little too much fun teasing. “Okay, now that you’re all nice and lubed up,” Bruce stands up and turns around, and sits on Conner’s lap.

Conner dares to look. He’s ashamed to say he might have come a little bit.

The panties are wet. Were they wet when he came in here? They’re literally _soaked_ and Conner’s cock is pressed onto them. It feels cold from the lube and warm from the skin under it at the same time.

The boy is shaking and so adorable, Bruce just wants to eat him up.

“P-please don’t—oh my God—I’m gonna come,” Conner won’t touch him. He won’t. He’s going to keep his hands right there they are because he’ll come if he touches him and that’s gonna be so embarrassing— _fuck_.

Bruce takes Conner’s hands, eases them from the pillows, and brings them to his hips as he grinds his hips down on the boy’s groin. “Don’t come yet,” he purrs, smoothing Conner’s hands over his thighs, up his stomach, and to his chest to squeeze his tits. His own cock is peeking out the top of the impossibly tight panties, pressed against his lower stomach, leaking, aching, red. He brings Conner’s hands back to his hips. “Hold on tight, sugar,”

He reaches back with both hands, one hand taking Conner’s cock, and the other pulling the panty to the side to reveal the Bruce’s hole. Slicked, pink, just a little bit puffy from the day’s earlier use. “I was about to use my favorite toy, but you’re persistent. My hole is hungry,” Bruce wiggles his ass, tightens and relaxes his hole for Conner to see, then rubs himself up and down Conner’s length. “Can’t wait to get your delicious cock in,”

It’s literally, right out of his dreams. Not that Conner’s ever fantasized about Bruce Wayne. It’s just that—he’s like a subject pulled out from someone’s fetish art from Patreon. All smooth and soft skin, sexy and fit, but also so curved, and that bubble ass is tight, and firm and fat all at once and it makes Conner want to bruise it. With his mouth.

Another strangled gasp comes from Conner’s mouth when Bruce starts to push his cock into his ass.

“Fuck, yes!” Bruce draws a breath in.

Conner’s surprised himself. Bruce doesn’t waste any time and forces his cock in by slamming his hips down and sitting on him. He’s also positive his dick is going to fall off his crotch from the heat and it feels like Bruce’s ass is literally, sucking him up further in.

Bruce keeps Conner sheathed for a few more seconds before lifting his hips up painfully slow, leaving the tip in, and then bringing himself back down and moving his hips in small circular movements to grind Conner into his walls. He keeps the slow pace, and as much as he wants Conner to pound into him enough to make his thighs purple, he wants to savor him, too. He hasn’t had anyone this delicious, young, and gorgeous in a long time.

Conner wants to cry. He doesn’t know why but the sight of Bruce leaving just his tip in before letting his asshole swallow the entirety of him back in, makes him feel like his cock is going to literally explode if it gets any harder.

His cock slips off of Bruce’s rim and the panty snaps back to cover Bruce’s hole. He lets go of Bruce’s hips, with one hand pulling the panty aside, with the other, he uses his thumb to press on the skin near the hole to spread it a little. Fuck just looking at that beautifully gaping hole, begging for Conner’s dick back in it—could make Conner come.

“How do you like it back there?” Bruce looks over his shoulder and reaches back with a hand to grab a cheek. “Well, get on with it,” he grins at Conner.

Conner does as he’s told and also because he’s thinking with his dick. He presses the head in and his hands bite onto Bruce’s hips tightly, and just _fucks_. Lifting Bruce up off of him then forcing him down as fast as he can. And there’s just something so hot about fucking someone in panties, and it’s insane how here he is living that fetish. With _Bruce Wayne_. Gotham’s prince. The most divine thing to ever walk on this city’s soil.

“Yes!” Bruce’s grip on Conner’s thighs is tight, nails digging into the fabric of the jeans, imprinting on the skin underneath. “Yes! Fuck my ass!”

“Mr. Wayne!” Conner cries in a panic. “I’m gonna cum! I can’t hold it!”

Bruce takes that as a challenge: how to make this boy come faster. So he slams down harder, the force rippling through the fat and skin in his butt and thighs. “Cum. C’mon, honey, give it to me. Be a good boy, fuck me harder and fill my hole,” 

It doesn’t take Conner long. Just a few more frantic and desperate cants up later, Conner’s coming, the kind of orgasm that grips his stomach like a vice, like he can’t breathe, and leaves his legs feeling like jelly.

Above him, Bruce leans back and lays on him, setting his head down his shoulder, and starts moaning and trembling all over. He peels Conner’s hands off his hips and smooths them over his torso, placing himself in the boy’s arms in an embrace as the orgasm rocks his body. He turns to press his lips against Conner’s cheek as he moves his hips, grinding Conner into his walls as he hums in satisfaction.

They lay in silence for quiet a while, gathering back their strength and catching their breath.  

“You ruined my panties, sugar,” Bruce pants into Conner’s jaw.

And Conner can see that. Bruce’s come is all over the front, while his own come ruined the back. “I don’t think it could have been saved anyway,”

Bruce hums in agreement, lifts himself up of the boy, and lets Conner watch his flaccid cock slide out of Bruce’s hole, now somewhat looser than before, and dripping with Conner’ come. The small panty slips back on to cover it and Conner’s disappointed he can’t see more.

 _Holy shit_ , Conner thinks. _I creampied Bruce Wayne._ He’s shaken out of his daze when he sees Bruce pull on a bathrobe that’s lying on the sofa opposite them, then hurries to stand and pull up his underwear and pants.

“Here’s your tip for today,” Bruce he whispers into Conner’s ear as he slips something into Conner’s back pocket, “Come back soon if you want. I’d really want us to do it again,” he winks, and sends Conner on his way.

Still a little lightheaded, Conner stands outside of Bruce’s apartment, unsure if that really happened. He doesn’t know how he got back to his car, but he’s there, sitting in the driver’s seat looking like he’s never been in a car before.

With a few light shakes of his head and taps to his cheeks, he regains composure, and remembers that Bruce had slipped something into his back pocket. He reaches for it. It’s cash. Five Benjamins.

_What the fuck._

He gets out of the car, fidgets the hell out of his skin on the elevator back up to Wayne’s apartment, and rings the bell.

The door opens about ten seconds later.

Bruce is much more modestly dressed this time. Gray slacks, turtleneck, hair slicked back. He isn’t sure if this is the same person he was with earlier today.

A cat got Conner’s tongue. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Bruce looks like he’s amused to see him back so soon. “Um,”

The man chuckles, leans on the doorway, and crosses his arms. “Back so soon?”

“Just, uh,” Conner stumbles on his words. “I forgot my manners. Thank you for the tip,”

This boy is honestly way too cute for Bruce to handle. “You’re very welcome,”

“I was just um,” he clears his throat, “Wondering when I could come back, maybe? Not as your delivery boy, that is,” 

The question surprises Bruce. “Anytime you want, sugar,”

“Can I come back tonight?” Conner asks hopefully.

Bruce grins. “I’d love for you to come back tonight. Or every night if you want,” he chuckles when Conner turns pink up to his ears.

“O-okay,” Conner nods. “Tonight, then. Thank you,”

Again, Conner finds himself in his car, taking a deep breath as he grips the steering wheel. _That’s a good way to start the day, I think,_ he thinks as he starts the car and puts the gear on drive to ease the car out of the parking spot and out of the lot, head for his next delivery. _But tonight, I’m looking forward to tonight._

 

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Bruce’s penthouse address in The Dark Knight according to moviemaps.org


End file.
